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Spicewood


The spicewood burns along the gray, spent sky,
In moist unchimneyed places, in a wind,
That whips it all before, and all behind,
Into one thick, rude flame, now low, now high,
It is the first, the homeliest thing of all--
At sight of it, that lad that by it fares,
Whistles afresh his foolish, town-caught airs--
A thing so honey-colored, and so tall!

It is as though the young Year, ere he pass,
To the white riot of the cherry tree,
Would fain accustom us, or here, or there,
To his new sudden ways with bough and grass,
So starts with what is humble, plain to see,
And all familiar as a cup, a chair.


Reese, Lizette Woodworth. 1920. Spicewood.

Lizette Woodworth Reese (1856-1935) was an American poet whose work drew heavily on rural Maryland, where she grew up. The images used in her poetry are strong, crisp, and simple. Her lack of sentimentality, her effective use of rhyme (which doesn't seem forced), and her striking sincerity were among the reasons Reese was widely praised. Her best- known poem "Tears" was published in 1899 in Scribner's magazine.